


falling flat (the piece calls for B natural despite the key)

by heylifeitsemily



Series: awfully fond [7]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Pre-Relationship, but one friend takes a lot longer than the other to see what's right in front of them the whole time, what's it called when it's friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 01:58:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19122274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heylifeitsemily/pseuds/heylifeitsemily
Summary: Edér'sreal fondof her. At the most.





	falling flat (the piece calls for B natural despite the key)

They sit across from each other wordlessly, Edér engrossed with the steadily draining flagon of ale wrapped in his hands, Evain braiding some rope fragments together with astute efficiency. 

His rejection is a pane of glass around them, the sounds of drunken revelry paltry to the odd rhythm of his breathing. Edér's eyes keep darting towards her. He takes sharp inhales like he's about to speak, but never quite formulates the thought. Thus the dwindling supply of ale.

She loves him. She's never been sure in what way precisely, but that seemed irrelevant when he'd been watching over her hollow body for days without respite. And when he agreed to bat against his own god for her. And through the year he shook her awake from each and every nightmare no many how times he caught a kick to the shins or an elbow in the gut. The minutiae wasn't important until they held it up to the light for closer inspection.

It was hard to interpret his praise as anything else, or rather, anything _less_ than the declaration that he felt the same. That whatever kind of affection bubbled in her chest when he'd laugh was the same brand as the half-smile he wore when she'd snort at the little maudlin things muttered under his breath. They stood on the same chasm of not-knowing, each of them kicking stones over the edge but never truly seeing how deep it ran.

So Evain decided to jump.

She didn't quite lay her cards out on the table, but the general gist left him skittish and stuttering. Edér's  _real fond_ of her. At the most. That's why they're still at the Wild Mare, her hands engaged in their busywork and his gaze snapping towards her and then away, like she'll explode at any second. He still cares, in his bumbling way. He's waiting to take her cue on how to proceed.

The bard starts another tune, slower than the last, and much too slow for the pit in her stomach. He stands when she does, downing the rest of his flagon and then motioning for her to lead the way.

The walk back to the Defiant is mired in uncomfortable silence. His jaw keeps twitching with apologies she doesn't need. Or particularly want. They make it back in record time, sparing the crew only a nod before racing below deck.

They come to a stop in front of her quarters, but their momentum is mismatched. She stops too quickly, and he sways into her space before teetering backwards, stumbling back to catch his balance.

When she chances a glance up at him, he looks away towards the rest of the cabin. 

"I'm still real fond of you, too. Don't worry your pretty head over it," Evain smiles. It's only a little sad.

She's inside the captain's quarters before he can make reply, before she has the chance to parse through any sort of reaction on his part. She stands only until his footsteps begin to retreat back above deck, and then she sinks to the floor, legs out in front of her and head lolling back against the door. 

She's really fucked this one up. 

* * *

Evain still loves him in the morning. And the next.

She tries not to puzzle over the breadth and depth of it too long into the night or in the gaps that intersperse their conversations, not when those pockets of silence are slowly turning easy again, water wearing down the stone she's set in its path.  _Real fon_ _d_ is fine by her if she doesn't dwell on it.

It grows finer as days turn to weeks, and weeks to months. It's really no more than an afterthought with everything else the gods have tasked her with, let alone the immediate concerns of her companions and crew. 

There are still moments, of course, where _real fond_  wanders into something conspicuously beyond friendship; that's how she got into this mess in the first place. Evain catches him watching her as they sail through a storm. His hand finds hers and squeezes when the torch flickers out. The two of them stand at the bow overlooking the sky and sea, and his eyes stray to her in spite of the view ahead. 

She's salvaged what she can. If there's anything more to be found, it's Edér's turn to leap.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am genuinely amazed at how early I was able to trigger this conversation in game. The good thing about it is that I can pretend he's still hung up on Elafa at this point and re-evaluate how he feels about the Watcher afterwards. If he gets the chance.


End file.
